


Need

by bironic



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Canon Het Relationship, Community: 1sentence, Doctor-Patient Relationship, Episode Related, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-19
Updated: 2006-06-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 12:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bironic/pseuds/bironic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has never been very good at resisting temptation, and as he leans in to kiss her he adds 'sleeping with a patient' to his ever-lengthening list of questionable decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Possible issues of consent. Nothing the show didn't invite.
> 
> Spoilers for "House vs. God."
> 
> Written for 1sentence (theme set Gamma). I decided to keep the original prompt order.

**1\. Ring **  
They aren't deluding themselves--the word "love" is never spoken, and there will be no trip to the jeweler to pick out rings--but he's not sure what it is that they do have going on here, and honestly he'd rather not think too hard about it.

**2\. Hero **  
_Yeah, you're a real hero_, says the House-voice in his head as he helps her up from the bench in front of the hospital and leads her slowly to his car.

**3\. Memory**  
"It gets to the point where I have no memory of what it's like to mean something to people beyond 'woman dying of cancer,' but when you look at me I can tell you're not seeing this…this sick shell, and I remember."

**4\. Box**  
Not quite out of House's place, not quite into hers: a few sets of clothes in the hall closet, his DVD player left behind so House can watch God knows what on it, a box of his books and toiletries half-off the area rug by the bedroom door; and Julie is still leaving messages for him to come pick up the rest of his crap from the house.

**5\. Run**  
He doesn't see that some of the onlookers' heads turn to him when he calls down the hall in alarm and doesn't realize he's running until he's there, pushing the kid's hand away from Grace's face and snapping at Chase to get him back to his room.

**6\. Hurricane**  
As with so many of his patients, the cancer has ravaged her--the cachexia setting in, the acceptance of impending death taking as much of a toll as the tumors and pain meds; looking at her now, the dark circles like bruises under her eyes and the thick sweaters she drags on in the mornings to keep warm and add bulk to her body and the way she huddles into herself when she moves, he thinks of a town lashed by a hurricane, but he knows that here there will be no miraculous restoration after the storm.

**7\. Wings**  
"Herpes," she echoes, not as upset as he expected, and her next comment throws him totally for a loop: "When I first heard that term in school I thought they were talking about Hermes--you know, the god with the medical staff and wings on his feet?--and even now when I hear it I see this sketch from our mythology book in my mind."

**8\. Cold**  
He comes in to the bedroom at her call of "Dr. Wilson?" to find her shivering under the sheet, so he takes one end of the comforter that's crumpled at the foot of the bed and lifts it over her, tucking it around her shoulders and then rubbing her hands between his own under the blanket to restore some circulation, saying, "All things considered, I think you can call me James."

**9\. Red**  
The day after her encounter with Boyd, she comes in wearing a smile and a deep red cardigan and skirt in place of her usual muted attire, and--he squints--yes, some makeup too, and he glances down at his own white coat, white shirt, pale blue tie and grey slacks, and feels irrationally as if he's been bled to sustain her.

**10\. Drink**  
He can tell even as she dutifully drinks the full glass of water that she's only trying this new combination of pills (including the anti-emetic he paid for out-of-pocket because her insurance wouldn't cover it) to please him.

**11\. Midnight **  
"Our lives are so small," she says out of the blue in the car, but when he glances over she's gazing away from him out the window; "Do you know that if you put the whole history of the Earth on a 24-hour clock, even the most primitive humans don't show up until less than a minute to midnight?"

**12\. Temptation **  
He has never been very good at resisting temptation, and as he leans in to kiss her he adds "sleeping with a patient" to his ever-lengthening list of questionable decisions.

**13\. View **  
_Maybe the view isn't a lie_, he marvels, staring at the scans tacked up in his office.

**14\. Music**  
Comparing nutrition labels on soup cans at the organic supermarket a few blocks from her building, he realizes that the song playing over the speakers is "Lean on Me" and almost laughs.

**15\. Silk **  
At night when the pain worsens and she can't lie down, can't walk, can't _be in her body_, she lets him hold her, rock her slowly, and he kisses the top of her head and murmurs about how silky her hair is now that it's grown in.

**16\. Cover **  
"We probably shouldn't show up at the hospital together," he tells her over breakfast, because he knows just how much trouble his little indiscretion could land him in.

**17\. Promise **  
He puts a hand on her shoulder and makes sure she is looking at him before he says, "You're not going to go through this alone."

**18\. Dream **  
In response to his question about the framed poster over the dresser (remarkable for its difference from the rest of the richly colored modernist prints), she tells him she has wanted to go to Florence since high school.

**19\. Candle **  
She doesn't eat and doesn't talk at dinner, just sits and stares at one of the lit candles with her head tilted and her hands limp in her lap; he eats and glances up from his journal from time to time with a wince she doesn't see, and the next morning when she cuts back on the oxycodone he doesn't stop her.

**20\. Talent **  
Looking up from between her legs and seeing her lying relaxed into the pillow and smiling slightly, eyes closed, he is pleased that he can relieve her discomfort for a few minutes with this...alternative therapy, even if her hips are too bony under his thumbs and her skin is nearly as pale as the sheet.

**21\. Silence **  
Silence greets his knock when he drops by the next evening to see how she's doing, carrying a WARP 10 LED device he borrowed from the hospital and some dinner ingredients, so he waits the few minutes it takes her to make it to the door and fumble the locks open and then she's smiling exhausted up at him, breathing audibly, and he knows she needs him to stay for more than a few hours this time.

**22\. Journey **  
She packs for her long-awaited journey to Italy; he gathers his things for his new apartment.

**23\. Fire **  
By the time they reach his office she has recovered from the initial shock and her voice is rising in both volume and pitch as she tries to process what happened, reaching up to touch her face again and again and looking behind them as if the boy will be there, ready to pounce; while he calms her down, part of him notes her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils and trembling hands, and another part thinks that this is the first time in the months since the anger gave way to depression that she's had such fire in her.

**24\. Strength **  
He stares at the vending machine, turning House's accusations over in his head, and admits to himself that providing strength to those in need could in fact be considered a weakness.

**25\. Mask **  
Watching her stare at the scans that have revealed her tumor-ridden liver, he explains, "Sometimes the original cancer or treatment masks the symptoms of the new one, and we don't detect it until it's very far advanced."

**26\. Ice **  
He never thought feeding crushed ice to a patient (though the label doesn't exactly apply here) could be erotic, but somehow he ends up sliding one piece at a time into her mouth and tracing her lip with his wet thumb and then she is sucking on his fingers and by the time they're finished kissing ("Do you try that hydration method with all your patients?" she asks afterwards) the bowl is full of cold water.

**27\. Fall **  
They are taking a slow walk in the hospital courtyard, his hand under her elbow or on the small of her back from time to time, when she says, "Spring has always been my favorite season, everything coming to life again--but knowing I'm not going to be around when the leaves change in the fall... I don't know whether to be sad because this is the last time I'll see the trees bud and the flowers bloom, or happy because I'll never see them die."

**28\. Forgotten **  
Lying awake on his back, he imagines what his colleagues' reactions would be if they knew; Cameron, he decides, would be torn between empathy and disappointment tinged with moral outrage, while Cuddy would demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing and whether he'd completely forgotten his professional responsibilities--questions he has asked himself more than once lately.

**29\. Dance **  
"Boyd says when I'm recovered you should take me out dancing," she informs him, her lips quirking, and damn it, that kid _is_ annoyingly observant.

**30\. Body **  
That night when they have sex he notices that her body really does look healthier; she's more energetic, too, and some of her sense of humor has obviously returned, because when his gaze lingers, she asks with a wry smile, "Time for my examination, doctor?"

**31\. Sacred **  
"I know it's a virus that's making me feel better," she reiterates, "but I like believing in a divine, benevolent force who's guiding everything--in something bigger than I am; it's comforting, you know?"

**32\. Farewells **  
"Thank you," she says, "for everything," and he gives her a smile that is more like a wince before closing the cab door for her.

**33\. World **  
Chase calls it a miracle, House a coincidence, and he isn't sure what to make of it, but Grace isn't complaining, because her shrinking world has been momentarily stabilized.

**34\. Formal **  
For all that they're sleeping together and he has accepted her invitation to move in (she needs a caregiver; he needs a respite from his friend until he can find a place of his own), they hardly know each other, so it's not difficult to keep their interactions formal at the hospital.

**35\. Fever **  
She's muttering about her plants, that someone has to water the plants, it's so hot, they'll die, they need water; but it's her he tends, shaking out two aspirin and tipping the glass of warm water to her cracked lips, cradling her in the bed.

**36\. Laugh **  
He pulls out the tried-and-true tale of Super Jimmy--the long version, complete with digressions into the details of his mother's hand-made costume and exactly how it feels to dangle from a tree by one's cape in front of half the third grade--and gets the desired laugh out of her.

**37\. Lies **  
He doesn't actually say that the apartment he found is unoccupied and he thinks he might get away with all the equivocation--until House demands his phone number and he has to tell him to call his cell because the line hasn't been installed yet.

**38\. Forever **  
On bad days oncology feels like a string of Pyrrhic victories, like this morning when Grace, with whom it has taken months to work through the denial (people always think they're going to live forever, even when you give them a terminal diagnosis in no uncertain terms), finally sets her shoulders and agrees to discuss palliative care.

**39\. Overwhelmed **  
After he has helped her into bed, he picks his way back through the piles of laundry and past the vomit-redolent bathroom into the cluttered, dusty living room, checks the kitchen on impulse (unwashed dishes and cutlery in the sink and on the counter, the garbage smelling as if it hasn't been taken out in a week, the half-empty fridge sporting condiments and expired yogurt and the remains of a loaf of bread), and sees just how incapable she is of taking care of herself and her apartment in her current state; he makes a mental note to call Lady.

**40\. Whisper **  
"I don't want to die," she whispers, and he makes a consoling face as he reaches behind him for the box of Kleenex on his desk that she'll be needing in about twenty seconds.

**41\. Wait **  
He thinks she has expected the news for some time now, but some of the light goes out in her eyes nonetheless when he finally tells her, "There's nothing we can do but wait and make you as comfortable as possible."

**42\. Talk **  
Curled on her left side, she asks him to talk to her to keep her mind off the pain; he strokes her hair and gladly obliges.

**43\. Search **  
It doesn't take him long to figure out that Chase is going through Grace's apartment, and while he doesn't think he's left any incriminating evidence at the scene (thank God it's not House conducting the search), the bottom drops out from his stomach for a moment before he transmutes it into a simmering anger that he's pretty sure he can pass off as the righteous indignation of a doctor whose patient's privacy has been violated.

**44\. Hope **  
He looks over her shoulder at the computer screen to discover that she is comparing vacation packages for Florence.

**45\. Eclipse**  
He tries to get her to understand that that kid did not heal her cancer--that it's just the exhilaration temporarily eclipsing her pain--but she insists she's feeling better and goes to chat with her savior in his room the next morning.

**46\. Gravity **  
To his relief, House acknowledges the gravity of the situation and (after the initial humiliating confrontation) doesn't needle him about Grace around anyone who could catch on to what he's talking about.

**47\. Highway **  
Suitcase in the trunk, check; driver paid, check; they kiss, he helps her into the back seat, and in an effort to save them from awkward parting sentiments he says, "You'd better hit the highway or you'll miss your flight," even though they both know she's going to be at least an hour early.

**48\. Unknown **  
"Cause unknown" has never been and will never be a satisfactory explanation for House, who is clearly determined to discount the supposed faith healing so he can treat his patient and gloat, regardless of how Grace will be tossed aside in his wake; and Wilson is, to put it mildly, not looking forward to dealing with her inevitable relapse.

**49\. Lock **  
Their fight is a tangle of faith and medicine, denial and realism, doctor and patient, lover and lover, leaving them locked in a stalemate until he turns away.

**50\. Breathe **  
Alone in his new, empty, silent apartment, he finds himself awake in the stillness of a quarter to one, trying to remember the last time he slept someplace where he couldn't hear another person breathing.


End file.
